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Ill Fated
Ill Fated '' is the third episode of Freight (Season 1). Description A steak is promised and charges move forward. Disclaimer This episode contains disgusting descriptions involving bodily excretion. (Diarrhea and Vomit) Not for the easily grossed out. Episode Now I wake up in the middle of the night after the door slot opens. Or, I assume it’s night time. I have no way of telling time here. The door was loud whenever you tried to open and close it. Same for the slot. The person on the other end slides in two glasses of water before shutting the door behind them. It was hard to fall asleep on an empty stomach, let alone a dry mouth. I get out of my makeshift bed and go after the glasses. I hold one up to my right hand’s light. The water is crystal clear. I look over at Ms. Duncard. I half expected her to tell me not to drink the water. She is still snoring like a bear. Against my better judgment, I raise the glass to my lips and gulp it down. Refreshing. I look back over at Ms. Duncard. She was still sleeping like a baby. I didn’t want to disturb her and give her her drink. I just went back to bed and tried to sleep. She’ll get her water when she wakes up. Then “Uh oh, Five-O! Here come the Po-Po!” someone said, looking out at window of the Freight household. Mandem looked out at the mayhem of people trying to hide the booze. He knocked on the door to the exercise room. Art didn’t make any sort of acknowledgment inside. Some of the kids vaping outside decided to make a run for it. Big mistake, the cops tackled them to the ground. Mandem started panicking as he saw this and started banging on the door louder. His actions were intensified when some fool opened the door for the flatfeet. “C’mon, c’mon.” Mandem muttered to himself as he was ramming his hand on the door now. “Everyone out! Immediately! IMMEDIATELY!” an officer yelled at the booze smelling house. Mandem took one last look at the door and began to blend into the crowd making their way to the front door. Paul walked out of the bathroom, whistling to himself, fastening his belt. As he rounded the corner, he saw the crowd being ushered out by the police; them checking everyone’s identity at the door. ''Aw hell, naw. he thought as he quickly made himself back into the bathroom. He did not turn on the light or lock the door behind him. He look at the window and an ingenious idea popped into his head. Paul climbed onto the bathtub and opened the window and stuck his head out. Not that high of a drop. He climbed out of the window and put his hands on the ledge of the window on the floor above him. He started shimming to the right, towards the back of the house. As he got to the edge, he suddenly had second thoughts. The drop may not have looked high, but Paul had no way of making a safe leap with the thin ledge and his hands suspended high above his head. Okay, this was not the best idea. As he was about to shimmy back to the bathroom, he heard the door open. He froze like a pond on a cold winter day and just stood there. The light turned on, and a minute later turned off. The person who walked in didn’t bother shutting the door behind them. Crap. Paul thought. Staying on the ledge is the most logical solution until the Po-Pos left. Paul grimaced at his sore arms. How does Art do this everyday? Paul looked up at the window above him. With enough force, that window could be opened. Straining, he bent his arms and slowly put his right foot on the wall. Grunting, he raised his left foot and put it on the top of the window he was at. Unfortunately, Paul was not thinking ahead, and the window slammed shut from his left foot. This caused him to lose his grip and fall backwards on his back. A police officer walked around the house searching each room for more booze. “These Friday night romps, amirite?” said another officer behind her. “Hillbillies are a unique species.” she responded without turning around. “Ok, don’t say that.” the second officer said in a stern voice. The first officer looked back at him. “Hillbilly is an outdated term, and it’s just derogatory.” “Maybe if you bumpkins don’t make any ignorant actions, we won’t have to call your customs by name.” she turned back and began making her way into the kitchen, opening cabinets and crouching down to open drawers. The second officer looked back at the front door. “First call in three months, and everyone wants to get out of the office and go after a minor disturbance.” The first officer looked up. “And you love it.” she said in a mockingly seductively manner. “For a house party? Yeeah. But I rather investigate calls like that privately. All I see here are glass bottles. I don’t see no evidence of male supremacy.” “Seriously?” the older woman rises. “Who calls it that? Listen, Oixon, make yourself useful and check that door over there.” she motioned off to the side. The officer named “Oixon” silently accepted his orders and went to the door. He opened the door and was surprised to see the lights were already on. What was on the floor was even more troubling. “Hey, Wanda?” “Yeah?” “...I found male foul play.” Now My eyes shoot up. I fly out of bed and onto the drain on the floor. It might have smelled like ass, but I didn’t care. I got really close to the hole and just threw up all my guts. Ms. Duncard startled awake. She took one look at me and put her head back down on her bed and turned, facing the wall. After a few more seconds, I felt another pain from another end. I practically ripped my pants off and actually sat on the grate. An entire stream of diarrhea exploded from my tushie down the hole. What was really gross, was that some started to pool around the hole. For what felt like hours, I winced as I slid on my jeans, without my boxer briefs. I stopped midway, and used my briefs as toilet paper as I wiped myself. I looked over at the other water cup. Maybe water will help my stomach. When I feel like I finished wiping (which was not easy), I went over to the other cup and picked it up. Ms. Duncard will understand, I keep telling myself. I barely took a sip before she turned around and saw me. “DON’T!” she practically yelled as she tumbled out of bed and scrambled towards me. She crashed into me and I fell, smashing the glass on the ground. I fell with my back to the corner of a room near the door, her on top of me. I watched in disbelief as the water just fell towards the drain in the middle. “What the actual hell, Yazmine!?” I tried to push her off, but I didn’t have the strength. She looked up at me and slowly got off of me. “They poisoned the water.” I looked back down at the floor. My stomach was starting to cramp up. I was tempted to lick the wet floor. At that point, I didn’t care if it was unsanitary or not. I pushed her off easily this time. She slowly made her way back to her bed and laid, still looking at me. I clenched my eyes and went back to the drain. As she watched me take care of business, she spoke. “So… how’s your escape going?” My eyes started leaking as my rear starting turning into scrambled eggs. After a while, I responded. “Better now that we have shattered glass and an intact cup.” She looked over at the mess the glass made. “How are we going to break out of prison with broken glass and a cup?” I held my hand up and pulled off the glove. “And this.” I said solemnly, my cybernetic hand’s circle glowing in the dark. “You don't know it yet, Ms. Duncard, but we WILL get out of here, very soon. Maybe not this month, maybe not this year, but soon.” I motioned to the door. “You see that door? Since I’ve been here, I’ve been studying those gears and levers. I don’t have the foggiest idea how to open them, but I will.” A few seconds of staring at the door, she turned back to me. “Why are you so confident?” “Please, I’ve been through worse.” “Wait… really?” “...no...” I said. “'This' is the worst.” “Anyway, that’s not what I meant… I mean… why do you think you have a chance on escaping this place?” “Because I have faith.” I thought very carefully before asking. “Are you religious, Ms. Duncard?” She looked away. “I was. Long time ago. Islam.” I nodded, sympathetic. “I’m Jewish.” She met my eyes. Her eyes told me that she lost faith ever since she’d been in this clink. I look down, my stomach stinging me in the bottom. Whether it was of hunger or the poisoned water, I have no idea. Then Art looked out at the interrogation room. He’d never been arrested before. He always thought his first time would be when the flatfeet knocked the door down on Nemesis and start to storm the place. Rick was always the guy who had a contingency plan for everything, so he taught Art what to say and do if he ever found himself in police captivity. He looked down at his shackles. Art spent enough time preparing for this moment, he never thought about himself getting arrested for anything other than illegal MMA fighting. The door opened and Officer Fuchs appeared in the open doorway. “You’re free to go, Art.” she said as she walked over and undid his clamps. “Thank you, officer, for your hospitality.” Art said to her as he rubbed his wrists. She sighed. “You’re welcome.” Art started towards the door. He put his hand on the door frame and looked back. “What happened?” Officer Fuchs looked up from her files. “Hm? Oh, the owner of the house had intense security.” “Huh?” Fuchs sighed. “There was a camera in that room, Art. You’re lucky you didn’t leave any scars or bruises on him, or else he would have sued.” She looked back down. “Right.” Art smirked at this. “Did I pass the drug test?” Fuchs sighed through her nose this time. “Yes… you did.” “Thank you.” Art said as he walked out. As he was walking through the lobby, Art saw Irene being scolded at by the man in the portrait. Her dad. he thought as he approached his dad. His father embraced him. “Scary.” Dad said. Art pulled away. “Well, he had it coming.” he said with a smile. His dad’s eyes turned serious for a second. Art shut up at this. “Where did you learn to fight like that? I saw the video, Art. You looked drunk and aggressive. And yet, Oscar walked out of there without a scratch on him.” “Oh, that? Psshhh” Art went. “You know… YouTube.” His dad nodded quietly, looking down. “All right, let’s go home.” Art and his dad started towards the exit. Art turned back to see Irene and her dad in the waiting room. What was odd to him was that they were the only four there. Oz and his parents were nowhere to be seen. “What happened to Oz?” he asked his dad. “No idea. I’m guessing he is in a lot of trouble. The way he drooled over that girl like a pig in that video…” Art just shrugged it off, completely ignorant to the can of worms he opened. Now “Water!” Ms. Duncard yelled into the hall. “Water! We need some water over here!” Her British accent was cute when she said “water.” What-Ah. No one showed up. “We need some water here! There’s broken glass everywhere!” Still no response. She looked at me and shook her head, frowning. She closed the plate and went back to her bed. My stomach was really cramping at this point. Just like a fist, my stomachs’ walls were touching. I get out of my bed and go to the door. I slide open the panel. “HEY, OLYMPIA! KEEP YOUR WATER! I DON’T THINK I’LL BE IN THE MOOD TO TALK AFTER I SLIT MYSELF ON THESE GLASS SHARDS!” I close the panel and go back to bed, not expecting anyone to listen. My stomach feels like hell. I have never felt pain like this before, and I’ve been through a lot of shit. I felt even worse when I had a sickening feeling: these torture methods were going to get more intense the more I refuse. It will eventually get to the point when they will do the bare minimum to keep me alive. I look down at my gloved hands. A man with his hands cut off is still considered to be 'alive'. “What will you even do if you get out of here?” Ms. Duncard asked me. “Take you to a fancy restaurant. Get you the biggest, most juicy steak you want.” She began imagining the steak. “No, really.” I looked at her. “Sneak my way around, find a radio or whatever and call home.” “Wouldn’t it be easier to go through this wall behind us?” I felt a sharp pain in my gut and dashed to the drain on the floor, unzipping my pants. After a moment of taking care of business, I responded. “These walls are metal. Reinforced, I’m guessing. Besides, we don’t have anything to successf-” The door opened and some women in streetwear clothes walked in. Some started cleaning up the broken glass as the others kept me at bay, surrounding my bed. It was odd that they left Ms. Duncard unguarded at her bed. She kept staring at me, looking exhausted. She was in a really bad position when I first saw her. In no place to fight. Maybe that's why the guards didn’t bother with her. When they finished sweeping, the women just left. A blonde guard just slammed two glasses of water on my bed before leaving, without saying a word. “...did you notice their clothes?” I asked Ms. Duncard. “Yeah?” she said, confused. “They weren’t wearing any type of uniform, gang colors… no type of clothing to show their affiliation.” “...and?” “And nothing.” I sighed. “I was hoping they’d wear some sort of uniform so I could seduce one and ‘blend’ in with the crowd.” “Are we back to square one then, Art?” she said with depression. “Not exactly,” I say as I emptied out a cup. I held the opening of the glass on the back wall, and placed my ear against it. I began knocking around the wall, searching for something. I took off my right glove and begin to knock around with my metal hand. “Since I can’t blend in anymore… I figure we need to escape from a different place.” I said as I tossed the other empty glass to her from before. “Help me listen.” Then Officer Oixon walked into the interrogation room. “Good evening, Ms. Freight.” Irene drowsily looked up and saw the officer close the door and sit down across from her. He just shook his head solemnly. “You are done.” he finally said. “Great student, great family. Got into Dartmouth University… you took it all for granted. For what? Booze? Being popular? Almost getting violated?” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Irene was thinking. “Did you know them? The two males?” “I…” As Irene opened her mouth, she felt her eyes watering. Oixon took out an iFruit tablet and a picture of Oz popped up. He swiped left to change the picture of Art. “Do you know him?” Irene bit her lip and shook her head. She swiped right and pointed at Oz. “Him…” she said as her eyes began leaking. “...I know him. He was the one who...” “Yeah, we know. You have your stepfather to thank for taking security precautions.” Now was not the time to complain how overprotective daddy is. “You are not off the hook, Ms. Freight, I am sorry you were almost assaulted, really, I am, but you were the host to a party that served alcohol. We got witnesses saying that you have drank before.” Oixon took out a piece of paper. “Since this is your first offense, your penalty is a thousand smackers. Just know if this happens again, you will be required to go into rehab.” Against Irene’s will, she continued crying. “Don’t worry, I WILL make sure the perpetrator is taken care of.” He got up and led Irene out the door. “Go. I am sure your family will want to see you.” When they got to the lobby, Irene’s dad got up from his chair and hugged her tightly. Irene just sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m soorrryy!!!” she sobbed into his clothes. “It was him… only him.” he said, completely in control as he tussled her dark hair. He looked over to Oixon with a sheepish smile. Oixon pursed his lips. “I would like to press charges, Officer. Make him never see the light of day again.” “Sir, are you sure?” Oixon asked. “I think you should talk to your daughter about that. She just had a traumatic moment. All that media exposure would destroy her.” Irene’s dad’s face turned grim. He took his daughter’s head in his hands and look right in her eyes. “Irene, sweetheart, do you prefer charges?” She took a deep breath in… then exhaled. Inhaled… and exhaled. “What do you think I should do, daddy?” “I say you should. No crime should go unpunished.” he said, scolding her. Irene looked over at Oixon. “If you do, the media will be very intrusive.” the young officer said. “Daughter of empire mogul molested by small town folk.” While this was happening, a boy about Irene’s age walked through the lobby, and greeted someone else in the lobby. Mr. Freight stared at him as he left the building. Irene looked to her father again. “...let him go. I don’t want the media vultures.” Mr. Freight nodded. “All right. Go outside and wait in the car with Rudy, I have some business here.” She nodded and went outside. Mr. Freight looked at Oixon dead in the eyes. “Press charges.” Oixon looked at him, then at Irene through the window. He just shrugged. “A’ight.” Now (Olympia) “Did he drink both cups?” I ask Aryn after she led her crew to his cell. Aryn sits back down in her original position, across the dining table from me. “Don’t know. We know he drank one.” “Good enough.” I say as I took a bite. “Mmm, lovely quiche.” Aryn groaned as she picks at her slice with her fork. “I lost my appetite. That room smells like ass.” We sat in silence for a while, the room was filled with the light banter at the other tables. “What does ‘Olympia’ mean?” she asked me. “Hmm?” “Moriarty calls you that.” “Does it matter?” I say, coldly. “...it’s feeding time, should I give him?” “Yes,” I say as I got up. “I don’t want to starve him just yet. He is still a new fish.” I went put my dish in the sink. “How are the other subjects, Jo?” Jo drank a cup of water and placed it down. “They are still cooperating.” she gasped. I walked out of the room and walked towards the holding cells. I stopped by Moriarty’s cell and press my ear against the door. I could only hear his voice, followed my some thuds. Then, I just turned around and went into the kitchen. It was empty. Slava Bogu. I take the phone out of the wall and begin to dial. After the fourth ring, Makar picked up. “Privet?” “Makar, privet! Can you please put them on?” After a while, he spoke again. “We can’t keep doing this, dear” “Please, I need to speak with them.” The other end was silent for a while. I began to think he was leaving me hanging until Charles’ voice said, “Zdrastuyte?” “Charles!” I say, a little too loudly, my throat beginning to choke up. “How are things?” Then “Why didn’t you interview the girl and me the boy?” Oixon asked Fuchs as they walked down the hall. “I think she would have appreciated it if she spoke to another woman.” “You had it covered.” she said, flatly as they both approached a door. The older woman let out a sigh. “This doesn’t get any easier.” Oixon placed a hand on the doorknob and opened the door, there, Oz was handcuffed to a table. “Oh, thank God! A negro cop!” Oz said, eyeing the African-American Oixon. “What does that have to do with anything?” the white Fuchs asked. “We negros need to stick together, you bitch ass ni-” “HEY!” Oixon slammed his hands on the table. “I don’t let no one say that word.” Oz became silent. “Young man,” Fuchs said, “What reason were you in that room, unconscious for?” “I was just defending that girl from that other kid in the white shirt.” Oz shrugged. Fuchs turned and switched on the TV in the corner. The video being displayed was every moment in the exercise room. From Oz unzipping his pants… to Art drunkenly stumbling in… to Oz’s humiliating defeat. Oz was turning beet red with every passing second. Oixon turned to him. “Anything you’d like to say for yourself?” “Today, is not your day. Her dad has decided to press charges. Things are not looking good for you. You are the first violent crime here in a long time. Not just in this county, but this entire state!” It took Oz half a second to decide what to do next. “Drop all charges and I will tell you who does coke in school.” Fuchs nearly choked on her mocha, she began having a coughing fit. “...no promises.” Oixon said. “But, best case, community service. Worst case, half a month out school suspension.” Oz inhaled deeply. He didn’t have anything to lose. He looked up at the TV, staring right at Art’s face. He didn’t know who that nerd was. But one thing he knew for sure was that he was dead. Credits Main * Finn Roberts as Moriarty Croix. * Catherine Keener as "Olympia". * Jameela Jamil as Yazmine Duncard. * Kamil McFadden as Oscar "Oz" Summers. Recurring * Quinn Sheppard as Irene Freight * David Dastmalchian as Alexander Freight. * Alfred Enoch as Manny "Mandem" Leeds. (Created by Man Mountain) * Ty Simpkins as Paul. Special Guest Stars * Kate Walsh as Officer Fuchs. * Noel Clarke as Officer Oixon. Locations Used * The Clink. * Freight Household. * Police Station. Gallery Episode Notes * The title may look like three lower case "L"s, but only the first letter is an uppercase "i". * A quiche is a savory open flan consisting of pastry crust filled with eggs, milk or cream, and cheese, meat, seafood or vegetables. Associated with the French culture. * Dartmouth University is an ivy league school in New Hampshire. * Length: 11 Pages. Times New Roman, Font 12. * "iFruit" is a parody of the tech company "Apple".